


Here's to a Year That's Brand New

by dancingonmoonbeams



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), The Drift (Pacific Rim), rated t for minor swearing and some talk of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingonmoonbeams/pseuds/dancingonmoonbeams
Summary: Snapshots of three times Hermann and Newt spend New Years together.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Here's to a Year That's Brand New

**Author's Note:**

> I recently watched Pacific Rim for the first time and loved it, especially these two. I’m playing around with something longer for this pairing so this is partially my way of trying to get their voices down. I had the idea on New Years to write something for Newt and Hermann through the years. I haven’t seen Uprising so this isn’t Uprising compliant. This is also my first time writing for this fandom so it might be a little rocky but I want to get into their voices.
> 
> Title is from “New Year Song” by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness.

The ocean is teeming with monsters. It’s teeming with monsters and Hermann is racing against time to stop it, working feverishly through the night trying to understand when are they coming, why are they coming, how long do they have, and the answers are never comforting. He runs his chalk over the blackboard, furiously scratching out equation after equation, willing his brain to push through the exhaustion until he finds the answer, that secret key that will save them from total destruction. He is about to erase his latest line and start over when he hears a sound from across the lab.

“Hey, Hermann,” Newton calls. Hermann is startled to realize he’s still here - it’s rare for him to go so long without chattering, though it’s possible he has been talking and Hermann simply tuned him out. He knows his lab partner is under the same amount of stress as himself, working the same grueling hours looking for a breakthrough, and yet Newton always seems to have a spark of energy that Hermann can’t find in himself - some extra light inside him that keeps burning when Hermann’s has been extinguished. Hermann gets the sense that Newton enjoys the pressure, his research still driven more by curiosity and an admiration for the creatures than fear of what’s coming. Hermann sets down his chalk and turns to face the other man.

“Happy New Year,” Newton says, nodding toward the rusted clock on the wall from where he stands elbow deep in a kaiju specimen. Hermann follows his gaze to the clock and blinks in surprise when he sees it reads 1:37 a.m. They had talked briefly that day about taking a short break at midnight, not long enough for Hermann’s skin to crawl with anxiety about missing work, but enough time to acknowledge the holiday, the ceremonial turning of the page to a hypothetical fresh start. Days in the Shatterdome tend to blend together, especially now with kaiju attacks getting closer and closer together, so he shouldn’t be surprised they worked through it.

“Happy New Year, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann replies, “Apologies, we seem to have missed midnight.”

“It’s whatever,” Newton shrugs, pulling his hands from his specimen. “Time is fake anyway.”

Hermann nods, feeling his exhaustion set into his bones now that he’s taken a moment to stop working. He rubs his tired eyes and imagines his bed, its warm quilt and soft pillows so inviting that he almost believes he’s there until he looks up and he is still in the lab, feeling Newton’s eyes on him.

“What?” he asks, disgruntled.

“You wiped chalk on your face again, dude,” Newton answers with a chuckle, gesturing to his own face with a gloved hand. 

Hermann sighs, watching as a glob of vivid blue slime slides off Newton's glove and falls to the floor. “Stop waving that kaiju mess around,” he responds curtly as he removes his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the chalk dust off his cheek with a frown.

Newton purses his lips to hide his laughter and stretches, letting out a loud groan as his shoulders emit strange popping sounds. “Time for a break,” he announces, carefully peeling his gloves from his hands and moving to the lab sink to scrub any remaining contaminants from his skin.

Hermann starts back to his chalkboard but turns around when he hears clinking glass, a reprimand on the tip of his tongue for his lab partner who has shattered more lab equipment than Hermann can keep track of. Instead, he sees Newton holding a bottle of whiskey and two coffee mugs, a boyish smile on his face as he gestures for Hermann to join him. He places both mugs on his desk and pours a generous amount of whiskey into each. Hermann hesitates, about to chastise his lab partner for drinking on the job, really, Newton, this is a workplace, then feels his resolve melt away as he notices the tension in his shoulders and hand from his hours at the chalkboard.

“One drink,” Hermann says primly, stepping over the yellow line dividing his orderly side of the lab from Newton’s chaos. He pretends not to notice the curious way his heart leaps when Newton grins at him, pushing the mug of whiskey into his hand and holding up his own to clink.

“To maybe the last New Year we’ll ever see,” Newton says boldly, his inhibitions left behind somewhere long ago, between the last two kaiju attacks. “Or not,” he adds, sipping his whiskey thoughtfully. “What do you think, Herms?”

“I have asked you not to call me that,” Hermann reminds him reflexively, though he finds the nickname doesn’t bother him as much as usual this time. Maybe it’s the late hour, or the whiskey, or the truth in Newton’s statement that he can’t ignore, that this could very well be the last time they see the calendar start anew. He frowns into his mug, taking a slow sip to avoid answering Newton’s question. 

“Do you think there are people out there having a totally normal New Years Eve?” Newton asks suddenly, waving his mug around as if gesturing to the world around them. “Like parties, champagne, confetti, kissing at midnight, the whole deal?” His eyes have a faraway look and Hermann wonders if he’s imagining years gone by, before he was confined to the Shatterdome with only curmudgeonly Hermann for company. He imagines Newt would have been the life of any party, with no shortage of people clamoring to kiss him at midnight. At that thought, Hermann almost chokes on his whiskey, shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts of Newton and kissing.

“I imagine ignorance is a remarkable drug,” Hermann comments, wishing for a moment that he wasn’t burdened with the knowledge of how close they are to complete annihilation.

Newton chuckles under his breath, draining the last of his drink before setting the mug down and looking at Hermann so intently that Hermann fidgets and averts his gaze. “Let’s make a deal,” he declares, and Hermann looks back at him. “Next New Years, you have to come to a party with me.”

Hermann huffs in surprise and raises his eyebrows, assuming Newton will immediately laugh at his joke and drop it, but he keeps his gaze level.

“I mean it, man,” Newton exclaims, leaning his chair back and locking his hands behind his head, showing off the brightly colored tattoos on his forearms. “Something tells me you haven’t been to many parties, and a new year is something to be celebrated.”

“Aren’t you the one who said earlier that time is fake?” Hermann asks evasively, tearing his eyes from Newton as he feels heat rising in his cheeks that he attributes to the whiskey.

Newt scoffs. “Well, yeah, it is, but society has decided this particular passage of time warrants getting drunk and kissing strangers, so who am I to say they’re wrong?” 

Hermann sighs. He’s seen the math. The likelihood of them surviving another year is about the same as the likelihood that Newton will go a week without breaking anything in the lab. It’s a strange burden he bears, holding the key to understanding just how quickly their destruction will come. Others in the Shatterdome have a sense, Newton even more so than everyone else, but Hermann is the one running the numbers time and time again, desperately willing them to provide a different result each time. Yet, there Newton sits, still somehow believing that they will find a way through this, a way to win against the monsters he admires so much. Hermann tries to let some of that optimism into his own heart.

“Very well, Dr. Geiszler,” he replies dully, “if we see next year I will attend a celebration with you.”

Newton raises his arms in the air triumphantly, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he warns, pointing at Hermann.

Hermann only shakes his head and finishes his drink, a strange warmth filling his chest as he eyes Newton across the desk and tries to see the world through the eyes of the biologist, where there is always a possibility for a breakthrough and an end to this abysmal war. He’ll never admit it out loud, but a part of him desperately hopes Newton has the opportunity to hold him to his promise. Hermann sets his mug back on the desk and rises, grasping his cane firmly as he trudges back to his side of the lab, resolved to find something useful to give a reason for Newton’s eternal optimism. 

\--

The world didn’t end. The math was all there, the numbers spelling out certain destruction, kaiju attacks increasing exponentially until all human life was run off the earth, and yet the world didn't end. The math didn’t lie, but it didn’t account for Newton - stupid, reckless, genius Newton - finding a way to drift with a kaiju to discover the key to stopping them. It didn’t account for Hermann volunteering to drift with him, linking his mind to Newton and one of the monsters he’d spent so long trying to outrun. No, his math could not have predicted that. It could not have predicted the rush of seeing his memories and thoughts intertwined with Newton’s, both of them feeling each other’s emotions so acutely and seeing each other clearly for perhaps the first time. 

Hermann is still trying to piece together everything he saw and felt in the drift, having pushed through Newton’s thoughts and memories to focus on stopping the kaiju attack. There was something there - a feeling he can’t quite place that keeps moving just out of reach every time he tries to focus on it. The feeling lingers even now, a gentle warmth that surrounded him when he saw himself through Newton’s eyes and grows whenever he thinks about the other man or sees him across the lab.

Hermann certainly would never admit it, but he wishes the drift had lasted longer, that he had time to relax into the connection with Newton and explore the fascinating turns of his mind, find out where he keeps his confidence and self-assurance, maybe see if any of it would rub off on Hermann. He expected to be mortified, knowing Newton had seen all of the parts of himself he tries so hard to hide, but as the dust settled and they stepped into their new world, Hermann felt instead a sense of calm between the two of them, an unspoken understanding that they had seen the best and worst of each other and it wouldn’t change anything. Or perhaps it would change everything. Hermann still isn’t sure which side they’ll land on. For now, Hermann focuses on what’s next, unsure how to move forward into a life he never imagined he would have. He takes it one day at a time, filing reports, cleaning the lab, organizing his desk, and ignoring the reporters and well-wishers who pester him for comment about his role in the closing of the breach.

Newton, on the other hand, revels in the attention. He flits in and out of the lab, his typical energy level enhanced by the adrenaline and general air of celebration that have lasted since the breach closed. He answers requests for interviews, giving winding explanations of how he developed his drift machinery, detailing exactly how untested and dangerous his approach was. He spends time on the phone with family, talking excitedly about visits home and traveling the world, while Hermann steadily erases his chalkboard and pretends not to listen.

Hermann knows their work is ending and expects that any day now the Shatterdome will send all of them packing, though he doesn’t have a clue where he will go when that happens. He feels a twinge of something sour when he overhears Newton making plans to travel and for a moment he imagines following Newton around the world, then quickly snaps himself back to reality.

Having spent five years stuck in a lab with the man, Hermann thinks he should be glad to get away from Newton and his annoying habits - the loud music, the constant talking, the flagrant disregard for lab safety protocols - yet there is something that tugs at him every time he looks up from his desk and sees Newton’s side of the lab empty when he is off somewhere celebrating or giving an interview. Even when they are apart, Hermann is always acutely aware of Newt’s presence, feeling his approach before he enters a room and tracking his movements without realizing he’s doing it. Hermann assures himself it’s a lingering effect of their drift, the Ghost Drift he’s heard pilots discuss where it can take time for the neural connection to be severed completely. 

This new connection is why now, as Hermann walks from the lab to the mess hall, he doesn’t have to turn to know Newton is coming up behind him. 

“Herms!” Newton calls, jogging to catch up with him. Hermann rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t bother to correct him, knowing it’s a lost cause.

“Yes, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann asks.

“We’ve been inside each other’s brains, man. Can you please just call me Newt?” he begs, shaking his head at Hermann’s ever-reliable formality.

“Very well,” Hermann says, and he knows the other man sees the hesitation in his face. “Newton,” he finishes, the name feeling foreign on his lips. 

Newton beams at the effort. “Baby steps, Hermie,” he says with a smug grin.

Hermann gapes at the new nickname. “I beg you to not,” he hisses, his face growing scarlet as Newt laughs. 

“You got it, Doc,” Newt replies with a wink. 

“What do you need Dr.- Newton?” Hermann asks with an irritated sigh as he continues down the hallway.

“New Years Eve is tomorrow,” Newton says, falling into step beside him.

“I am aware,” Hermann answers curtly, for some reason acutely aware of how close Newton’s hand is to his own as they walk side by side. _Drift effect,_ he thinks to himself, shaking his head slightly.

“Remember last New Years?” Newton asks, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “When you made a certain promise to a certain rockstar biologist?”

Hermann stops in his tracks, realization flooding his mind. He had promised to attend a party with Newton. A real party, with alcohol and other people. He holds back a groan and keeps walking, trying to make it look like he had only stopped to adjust his grip on his cane. “You’ll have to remind me,” he says airily. 

Newton smirks like he can see right through Hermann, and Hermann is sure he can, another frustrating side effect of their drift, or perhaps just a result of their long-term working relationship. Hermann sighs, desperately hoping someone else will appear in the hallway to distract Newton and make him forget the whole thing. With no such luck, Newton presses on. “You promised you’d come to a party with me, and lucky for both of us, I just received an invitation to the hottest we-canceled-the-apocalypse New Years Eve party in town.”

“Is it also the only we-canceled-the-apocalypse New Years Eve party in town?” Hermann retorts before he can stop himself. 

“Touché,” Newton responds, undeterred, “which still makes it the hottest. And you promised.” 

Hermann rubs a hand over his face, groaning internally at the thought of attending a crowded party and being surrounded by people he doesn’t know and certainly doesn’t want to know. Even before the kaiju attacks became more frequent and pulled him away from having any social life, he wasn’t much of a partier. He frantically tries to think of an excuse but stops himself when he sees the hopeful look on Newton’s face and feels that now-familiar warmth in his chest melt his resolve.

“Fine,” Hermann sighs, “I will attend one party.” Newton grins and looks like he’s about to launch into a description of what they can expect that night but Hermann holds up a hand to stop him. “But I reserve the right to leave as soon as I want.”

“Come on, man,” Newt says with an eye roll, “you at least have to stay until midnight. That’s the whole point.”

“All right,” Hermann concedes, “but then I can leave whenever I want.”

Newton laughs and starts walking towards the mess hall again. “You’re not being held hostage, dude. Maybe you can even have fun,” he replies, turning to Hermann to raise his eyebrows.

 _Doubtful,_ Hermann thinks to himself, but Newton looks so excited at the thought of the party that he keeps his pessimism to himself, choosing to simply nod as he continues walking next to Newton. 

The party, as it turns out, is in the Shatterdome’s mess hall, and the guest list appears to be all of their coworkers. Leave it to Newton to make a work event sound like an exclusive invitation, Hermann thinks, but at least he doesn’t have to make small talk with people he doesn’t know. As much as he hates to admit it, he is enjoying himself. Not to the extent that Newton seems to be as he moves around the room, laughing and talking with people Hermann has never even spoken to as if he is best friends with everyone in the room. Hermann opts to hover in a corner, exchanging pleasantries with the few people he has maintained relationships with in his time at the Shatterdome and feeling the pulse of energy in the room around him. Still, though, he is always aware of Newton, the strange drift bond tracking the other man at the back of his mind.

More than once Hermann thinks he feels Newton’s eyes on him, but when he looks up he sees Newton engaged in conversation or joining in a round of raucous singing. Each time he finds Newton across the room he gets a flash of that nameless feeling he noticed in the drift and tries to shake it away, unable to make sense of the warmth he feels whenever Newton crosses into his vision.

“Having fun?” Newton’s voice echoes in his ear as he sidles up next to Hermann and hands him a glass of champagne. Hermann takes the glass, feeling a jolt when their fingers brush. He sips the drink slowly, deliberately avoiding Newton’s gaze for fear Newton will see through him the way he always seems to. 

Newton checks the time on his phone and slides it back into his pocket, letting his shoulder brush against Hermann’s as he does. “Almost midnight,” he announces, and Hermann watches people around the party grab champagne glasses and confetti poppers as they turn to a countdown clock that bears a striking resemblance to the Shatterdome’s war clock. 

“Have you found your stranger to kiss?” Hermann asks, trying to inject lightness in his voice to cover up the strange anxiety he feels about how Newton might answer that question. “I seem to remember that being on your list of things you were missing out on last year.” He finally turns to meet Newton’s gaze and sees the other man watching him with an unreadable expression. 

“I’m not interested in any strangers,” Newton answers with a shrug, his cheeks coloring slightly. Hermann almost asks who he is interested in and stops himself, unsure why the question rose to his lips in the first place. Instead he nods, turning to the clock to see the last seconds of the year count down to zero as the party erupts into cheers. 

“Happy New Year, Hermann,” Newton says, meeting Hermann’s gaze with a soft smile. Again, Hermann feels that strange warmth, like he and Newton are wrapped in their own glow, the only two people in this crowded room. He blinks rapidly, trying to shake the feeling.

“Happy New Year, Newton,” he answers, returning the smile and taking a small step back to try and clear his head. “We didn’t miss it this year.”

“I guess not,” Newton says distractedly, running a hand through his hair and taking a slow sip of his champagne. Hermann watches him and feels his skin grow hot, suddenly aware of the swell of the crowd around them. Newton shifts closer, the movement nearly imperceptible except for the way every inch of Hermann’s skin seems to tingle the closer he gets. He watches Newt open his mouth to speak and suddenly feels his lab partner is about to say something that will change everything, that will answer the questions he is too afraid to speak about what he felt in the drift, and Hermann makes a split second decision. 

“Well, I think I will turn in now,” he says abruptly, regretting the words as soon as they are out of his mouth, even more so when he sees Newton’s face fall. The change in his expression is so slight that Hermann is sure no one else would notice, but even without the drift he knows Newton’s moods well enough by now. He’s been responsible for upsetting Newton countless times, whether complaining about his taste in music, reprimanding him for breaking yet another piece of lab equipment, or arguing about the best research approach, and he’s never wanted so badly to take back his words and bring back Newton’s usual good-natured cheer. 

“Oh, yeah,” Newton says, his voice casual but slightly too high, and Hermann wonders momentarily why his decision to leave would upset Newton at all. “Of course, dude, you made it to midnight. Go be free,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Right,” Hermann says, desperately wishing he could take back his words but too proud to admit, even to himself, that he wants to stay. “Well, thank you, Newton, for inviting me. This was a lovely party.”

Newton nods and drains the rest of his champagne. “Goodnight, man. Happy New Year.” He pats Hermann on the shoulder and Hermann feels fire where their skin touches, a feeling that lingers after Newt pulls his hand away.

“Yes, you too,” Hermann says distractedly. “Goodnight.” He turns to go, Newton’s expression seared into his mind as he makes his way through the crowd of revelers and slips into the relative quiet of the hallway. His legs carry him through the maze of passageways to his quarters and before he knows it he’s outside his door. Out of habit, he looks to the side at Newton’s door, even though he knows he left the other man behind back at the party. The further he gets from the mess hall, the more he wishes he had stayed. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He and Newton had a system, and it worked. A clear line of demarcation between them, keeping Newton’s chaos from upsetting Hermann’s world of order. He has never felt a need to cross that line, to pull Newton into his life, so why now does he feel an overwhelming need to be close to him, to feel that warmth Newton brings him?

It’s the drift, he reminds himself. Drifting with someone promotes closeness and increased empathy between the two partners. Hermann knows this. There have been _studies._ There is scientifically proven, peer-reviewed, methodological research that confirms these strange feelings he’s had toward Newton are nothing but a natural response to their shared neural pathway, coupled with the extra serotonin from successfully stopping the apocalypse. Newton is still the same infuriating know-it-all he’s always been. The feelings will fade, and things will go back to normal. He just needs to give it time.

Satisfied, Hermann is about to unlock his door when a tingle in his spine informs him he’s not alone. He turns to see Newton appear at the end of the hallway and walk toward him until he stops a few feet away, as if waiting for Hermann to close the distance. Before Hermann can ask why he left the party, Newton speaks.

“You didn’t feel it, did you?” he asks.

Hermann frowns, confused. “Feel what?” 

“In the drift,” Newt says, waving his hands in a vague motion before letting them drop to his sides and giving Hermann an intense look. “I thought…” Hermann’s heart races as Newton pauses, struggling to find his next words. “Nevermind,” he says after a moment, rubbing his eyes with his hands and shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Dr. Geiszler- Newton,” Hermann corrects himself, “I apologize, but I simply don’t know what you’re talking about.” _Coward,_ he thinks to himself. He is a man of science, of truth, his entire life spent searching for answers to difficult questions and yet in this moment he can’t allow himself to even consider the question that’s been eating at him since the drift.

“Yeah, that’s been made very clear,” Newt mutters to himself, turning to walk away. “Sorry. I’ll just go back-”

“Wait,” Hermann says, surprising himself with the force of the word but realizing how strongly he means it. He doesn’t want Newton to go, he never has. Newton’s words echo in his head. _You didn’t feel it, did you?_ Realization tugs at his mind, like he has all the variables for the equation but the solution still eludes him.

“I felt something,” he admits quietly, forcing himself to meet Newton’s gaze. “In the drift. When I saw myself through your eyes, I felt something. And even since then, the feeling has stayed with me. I don’t understand it beyond what I’ve read about the Ghost Drift, but this feels different.” He stops, trying to make sense of his thoughts as Newton waits patiently. “I can’t describe it, but it’s as if I feel this… Warmth? When I’m around you.” Hermann huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I sound ridiculous,” he scoffs. “I don’t know what any of this means, but I’m sure it’s simply a side effect of the drift clouding my judgment.”

“Or it means you realized I’m in love with you,” Newton states plainly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Hermann.

“Pardon?” Hermann asks, hearing Newton’s words but unable to make sense of them.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats. “I thought you could tell when we drifted, and that you were just trying to let me down easy by not mentioning it, but then tonight you came to the party, and you kept watching me, and you asked me about kissing someone at midnight…” he trails off. 

Hermann considers his words and suddenly sees the pieces fall into place like one of his equations on the chalkboard. The warmth he felt seeing himself through Newton’s eyes and the way that same warmth fills him every time he’s around Newton. The thoughts he’s tried to push away about following Newton wherever he goes from here, the strange pang he felt at the thought of him kissing someone else. He thinks back to even before the drift - the comfortable rhythm the two of them had, the way they never stayed angry at each other even throughout their constant bickering, the flash of intense fear he felt walking in on Newton seizing on the floor of the lab after his first kaiju drift, the moment he volunteered to drift with Newton with no hesitation or thought for the risks involved. 

“Oh,” he says softly, realization dawning on him as the answer reveals itself and seems so obvious that he can’t believe he didn’t reach this conclusion sooner. “I think,” he hesitates and takes a deep breath before saying the words, feeling the truth in them as he speaks, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

“Wait, you are?” Newton asks incredulously, raising his eyebrows. 

“The feelings you have towards me that I felt when we drifted,” Hermann says slowly, “I have those same feelings towards you. And perhaps have for a while, now that I’m thinking about it, but I didn’t realize it until now.”

Newton watches him with an amused look. “You really know how to keep a guy guessing, you know that?”

“I apologize,” Hermann says in a halting voice. “You know better than anyone that relationships haven’t been my strong suit.” He’s had flings, yes, though very few since coming to the Shatterdome with the spectre of total annihilation looming larger every day. He’s always been too focused on work to address any romantic feelings, and the few partners he’s had didn’t stay long, always growing tired of coming second to work and leaving him for someone with more energy to devote to a relationship. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Newt says kindly, “There’s sort of been a lot going on.”

Hermann nods, unsure what to do now that he’s come to this realization. It’s as if he’d been teetering on the edge of a cliff and has suddenly stepped over the side without a clue what to expect when he reaches the bottom and yet he doesn't fear the crash. He watches Newton, again wishing he could find that pocket of Newton’s mind that stores his courage and borrow just a piece so he can make the move he desperately wants to make instead of staying frozen in place.

“Hey, Hermann?” Newt asks, a smile playing across his lips. 

“Yes?” Hermann responds.

“I know it’s not midnight anymore, but can I kiss you?”

Hermann feels his heart jump into his throat as he takes in Newton’s hopeful expression, his eyes twinkling and his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly as he waits for Hermann to respond. Before he can overthink it, Hermann nods, moving closer to Newton until he can feel the other man’s breath on his lips. He hears Newt’s breath catch in his throat before he leans in and presses their lips together.

At the moment their lips touch, Hermann feels like he’s back in the drift, with time and space moving around him with Newton the only thing keeping him grounded. Newton brings his hand up to cup Hermann’s cheek and they lean into each other, Hermann’s skin burning at the touch as he wonders why it took him so long to realize this was what he wanted. When they break apart, they’re both smiling. Newton removes his hand from Hermann’s cheek and takes a small step back, a blush still coloring his cheeks as he looks at Hermann like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“So,” Newton says, never one to let a silence go on too long. “Why haven’t we been doing that this whole time?”

“Because you’re an irritating fool,” Hermann supplies helpfully, his voice light as his head spins trying to make sense of everything that happened in the last few minutes. 

Newt laughs. “And you’re a pretentious know-it-all,” he adds, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time when they pull apart, Hermann holds Newton close, feeling emboldened and confident in a way he hasn’t before. “We could go inside my quarters,” he says, feeling his cheeks redden. “To make up for lost time.”

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says in a scandalized voice, “are you coming on to me?”

“Now you use my title?” Hermann sputters, distracted by the weight of Newton’s hands on his hips as he wraps his arms around Hermann. 

“I thought you’d think it was hot,” he says absently, pressing kisses down Hermann’s neck.

“You are insufferable,” Hermann says, though there’s no heat behind his words. He fumbles in his pocket for his keys and unlocks the door to his quarters, pushing it open and raising an eyebrow to Newton in an unspoken question. Grinning, Newton takes his hand and tugs him through the door, pushing it shut behind them and capturing his lips in another kiss. 

\--

“Newton,” Hermann calls over his shoulder from where he stands at the window, watching the wind whip thick snowflakes through the air, filling his vision with nothing but white. 

“Yeah?” he hears Newton call from their bedroom.

“The snow is getting quite heavy, don’t you think?” Hermann replies.

“What?” Newton shouts, his voice quickly followed by a crashing sound, some cursing, and footsteps before he appears in the doorway, rubbing his elbow distractedly. “Knocked over some books,” he explains upon seeing Herman’s questioning look. “Oh, shit,” he adds, coming to stand at the window and peer at the snow blanketing their yard. 

“It doesn’t appear the roads have been cleaned at all,” Hermann muses, craning his neck to see the end of their driveway. “I know you enjoy the parties, Newton, but I do wonder if we should reconsider traveling-“

“Hermann,” Newt interrupts, rolling his eyes, “I will survive one New Years Eve without going to a party. As long as I have you to kiss at midnight, it’ll be great.” He wraps his arm around Hermann’s shoulders and pulls him in, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek before bounding away towards the kitchen. 

Hermann watches him go with a faint smile lingering on his lips. It’s been ten years and he still catches himself wondering how he and Newton ended up here, living out their lives together in their little farmhouse just outside of Boston. The house was a compromise, a settlement in their battle of wills between living in the heart of the city (“This is where things _happen!”_ Newton had exclaimed when they toured a tiny apartment downtown that made Hermann’s hair stand on edge with the constant noise and commotion) or out in the country with no neighbors in sight (“Newton, we’ve spent the greater part of a decade living in a metal fort with hundreds of other people. We need space,” Hermann had insisted while Newt waved his cell phone around looking for service).

In the end, they decided on this farmhouse in a small town just thirty minutes from the city by train. Compromise was something they were good at, after all, their years working together helping them each to recognize when to give a little and when to push for more. The party they were supposed to attend tonight was another compromise. Hermann would have preferred to spend the night in, sitting by the fire and reading or challenging Newton to a game of Scrabble and seeing how long it would take before Newt is shouting about not being made to feel a fool by some board game. But then Newton suggested they attend a party with his colleagues, and his eyes twinkled with such excitement that Hermann couldn’t find it in himself to say no. Hermann is pulled from his thoughts by the sound of another crash, this time from the kitchen, and he quickly crosses the room to investigate.

“Newton, what have you done now?” he asks with exasperation, rounding the corner to see the other man balanced on a countertop, reaching for the top shelf of the cupboard. 

“Hey man,” Newton replies casually, glancing over his shoulder to flash Hermann a smile before going back to rummaging through the cupboard. Hermann’s eyes move across the kitchen and he sees a set of mixing bowls upended on the floor, which he takes to be the source of the crash he heard.

“Got them!” Newton exclaims triumphantly, holding something aloft over his head and jumping down from the counter, placing two wine glasses on the table. “Why are we keeping glassware on the tallest shelf?” he asks, holding one up as if inspecting it for chips.

“To avoid you knocking it down and shattering it on your quest for the junk food you are so fond of,” Hermann answers lightly, taking a glass from Newton’s hand and reaching for a cloth to wipe it clean. “Do we have champagne?” he asks as he cleans the second glass.

“We have…” Newt trails off as he moves around the kitchen, checking in cupboards and the refrigerator before pulling a bottle from the back of the fridge. “An open bottle of white wine.”

“Good enough,” Hermann responds, passing the glasses to Newton to fill and stepping around him to place a pot on the stove. “Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Newt replies, dropping a kiss to Hermann’s cheek as he moves by, leaving his glass on the counter by the stove.

“Could you chop some of that basil?” Hermann asks, nodding his head toward the small indoor garden Newt rigged on their windowsill - one of the perks of living with a biologist who can’t sit still.

They prepare dinner in comfortable silence, moving around the kitchen like every movement is choreographed - a hand on the small of the other’s back while passing by, a small step to the side to let the other fit next to him. It could be a lingering effect of the drift they shared, but more likely it’s just what happens when you spend over a decade sharing a space with the same person. Hermann feels a wave of contentment as he watches Newton roll his sleeves up to clean the dishes, his colorful tattoos flashing as he turns the faucet. Newton seems to feel Hermann’s eyes on him and turns.

“Are you checking me out, Dr. Gottlieb?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Hermann laughs and goes back to stirring the pot on the stove. “I will not encourage your oversized ego,” he responds airily, watching out of the corner of his eye as Newton winks and surreptitiously flexes his arms. 

They eat dinner in their dining nook, watching as the snow continues to fall outside their window, blanketing everything in white and making Hermann feel like it’s just him and Newton in the world. After dinner they move to the living room and Newton starts a fire while Hermann sets up the Scrabble board. As he suspected, it doesn’t take long for Newton to gripe about the game not going in his favor.

“I know a lot of words, and none of these letters make words,” he groans, poking at his tiles in frustration.

“Perhaps it’s time for another PhD,” Hermann says lightly, neatly placing his tiles on the board.

“In what, Scrabble?” Newton asks as he sips more of his wine.

“You know, it’s okay to admit I’m better at this than you are,” Hermann tells him, biting back a laugh as he watches Newton rearrange his tiles with a look of intense concentration, as if he’s willing them to reveal a word he can play.

“Nope,” Newt replies, “you’re cheating. I still don’t know how, but you’re cheating.”

“Let me know when you figure that out,” Hermann says, unable to hold back his laughter. When the game ends with Hermann winning again, Newt stands and stalks to the kitchen, returning with the nearly empty wine bottle to refill their glasses.

“Anyway, now that you’re done cheating at Scrabble and giving me all of the tiles that don’t make words,” he says with a wink, flopping down next to Hermann on the sofa and raising his glass to clink against Hermann’s. “Happy anniversary, babe.”

“Technically, that’s tomorrow,” Hermann reminds him.

Newton sighs dramatically. “Do we have to have this talk every year? Hermann, we hadn’t gone to sleep yet and therefore it was still New Years Eve but if you want to insist that you’re right and us getting together after midnight means our anniversary is New Years Day, well then, it’s already New Years Day in Hong Kong so either way it’s our anniversary somewhere, so help me-”

Hermann cuts off Newt’s rant with a swift kiss, laughing as he pulls away and takes in Newton’s disgruntled expression. “Happy anniversary,” he says, bringing his hand to Newton’s face and stroking his cheek. “In Hong Kong,” he adds before leaning in for another kiss.

“Smart-ass,” Newton mumbles into his lips, his hands finding a home at Hermann’s hips. He shifts to pull Hermann on top of him and they lay on the sofa like that, kissing lazily and cuddling closer as the fire in the hearth dies down, neither of them wanting to move to add kindling to keep it going. They’ve both started to doze off when Newton’s phone buzzes where he left it on the coffee table, rousing them from their comfortable sleep. Newton groans loudly at the sound, and Hermann rolls his eyes fondly as he sits up and reaches for Newt’s phone to pass it to him.

“Oh, hey,” Newt says, turning the screen to Hermann where the time glows 12:42 a.m. “Happy New Year, babe.”

“We’ve slept through midnight,” Hermann muses, reaching out to run his hand through Newton’s hair.

“Better than working through midnight,” the other man replies as he pushes himself to a sitting position and leans in to rest his head on Hermann’s shoulder.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Hermann whispers, leaning down to meet Newton’s lips in a kiss. 

“Can I say happy anniversary now?” Newt asks teasingly, watching Hermann with a smirk.

“Since it is now our actual anniversary, yes, you may,” Hermann replies as Newton laughs. “Now come on, we aren’t doing ourselves any favors sleeping on this sofa.” He picks up his cane and stands, holding out his free hand for Newton to take before leading him to their bedroom. Once they’re both in bed, Hermann switches off the light and burrows under the blankets, wrapping himself around Newton and pressing his feet against his partner’s legs for warmth. Newt’s arms encircle Hermann’s waist and Hermann feels himself dozing again before Newton’s voice rouses him.

“Hey, Hermann?” Newt whispers.

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“I love you,” Newt says, pressing a kiss to the top of Hermann’s head.

Hermann raises his eyes to meet Newt’s, just barely able to make out his expression in the sliver of moonlight that floats through the crack in the curtains. “I love you too, Newton,” he says with a soft smile, still reveling in the feeling of saying those words and knowing what they mean. “Goodnight.” He punctuates the word with a quick kiss and lays his head on Newton’s chest, letting the steady drum of the other man’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.

As Hermann drifts off, that familiar warmth swells inside him until it feels like he is radiating with the love he shares with Newton. It’s a far cry from those first few weeks after the drift when he was overwhelmed with this strange feeling he couldn’t put into words - unable to open his eyes to the love that had been right in front of him the entire time. He thinks back to eleven years ago, when they rang in the New Year in the lab, allowing themselves a momentary pause from the reality that their world could end at any moment. He remembers Newton guiding him through the hardest days, keeping him going with his steady optimism or his infuriating habits that distracted Hermann from the constant fear that nearly paralyzed him.

It’s easy to see now how inevitable it was that they would come together, but as Hermann reflects on that day ten years ago, when Newton finally named the feeling he didn’t yet understand, he remembers the complete uncertainty he felt when he thought about his future. He'd spent so long predicting his own doom that he never allowed himself to think about what he wanted when it was all over. Newton guided him through that, too.

As time goes on, Hermann becomes more certain that this is where he was always meant to be, living with the man he loves without the fear of world-ending devastation breathing down his neck. They still bicker like they did in their days sharing the lab, though now the arguments end with a kiss and neither can stay angry with the other for very long. A new year is supposed to bring commitments to change, resolutions to better oneself, but all Hermann can wish for is for his life to stay exactly as it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
